


Dancing Shadows

by litra



Series: Broken Mirrors Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angel Dean Winchester, Angelic Grace, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Human Castiel, Leviathan Castiel, Monsters, Pre-Slash, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/pseuds/litra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean landed in purgatory and snarled at the dark. Cas landed beside him, saw the hunter draw his blade like a knight set against the hoards. He opened his mouth to call a warning or maybe a battle cry of his own but was pulled away before the sound could leave his lips. He didn't fit into this broken grey world where there was no sun, no moon, and the stars failed to turn overhead, and because he didn't fit, it tore him apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> This is a parallel story to 'Pictures In Fogged Glass' part 2 of the Broken Mirror's verse. They are happening at the same time but since this story is much shorter it gets to be posted first.

Dean landed in purgatory and snarled at the dark. Cas landed beside him, saw the hunter draw his blade like a knight set against the hoards. He opened his mouth to call a warning or maybe a battle cry of his own but was pulled away before the sound could leave his lips. He didn’t fit into this broken grey world where there was no sun, no moon, and the stars failed to turn overhead, and because he didn’t fit, it tore him apart.

 

\---

 

Castiel woke to the bars of a gilded birdcage hanging from a tree hundreds of feet tall. A wind picked at the bars, weaving almost musical notes around him in a mockery of the songs of heaven.

 

\---

  
  


Cas woke on the banks of a river in a world made of grey. There was a madness lingering at the edges of his mind but whatever had been feeding it was fading. He knew where he was because there was no other place he could possibly be but purgatory. Moreover he could actually calculate his odds of survival, logically determining that he was likely to die before ever seeing Dean again. Half an hour ago he would have never been able to look at it like that.

The shapeshifter attacked from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck. Cas let the madness flair up one last time. He flailed all elbows and pulled the creature to the ground when it doubled over. He couldn’t fly, but he needed to get away. They wrestled in the mud, rolling into the water, Cas always seeking to break the hold. The water was clogged with lichen so neither of them saw the rock before they rolled over it.

Cas cried out ( and got a mouthful of slime for his trouble ) when the edge caught his shoulder and scraped all the way down his arm. The shapeshifter wasn’t as lucky. A blow to the side of it’s head and it was face down in the water, it’s hold suddenly lax.

Cas pushed himself up, gasping in the relatively clean air.  Once again free to do as he liked; his madness fizzled and died. Leaving him staring down at a corpse. He was without supplies, weapons or knowledge of his location or Dean’s. His chances of survival were not improving.

He tried to summon his angel blade in case the shifter had allies, but it wouldn’t fall into his hand. He tried to spread his awareness out into the surroundings, but he couldn’t see or hear anything beyond what mortal senses told him. Cas had been on the edge of falling before, his grace down to the last dregs. This wasn’t quite the same. There was none of the accompanying nausea or dizziness. The overall effects were quite similar however, so he was forced to conclude that something was blocking him. Hardly useful information since he had no idea if it was some creature or an aspect of purgatory itself.

To the matter at hand. He needed to find Dean. Two would be far more effective than one when facing the throngs of purgatory, even if the odds were still miserable.

He bent, and got ahold of the body, dragging it back to the scrap of sand that constituted the beach. Frisking the shifter produced nothing useful, but a quick search of the surroundings led him to a small camp, where he found a serviceable if rust covered blade and a water skin that he filled from the stream.

A flash of memory provided a direction. They had been hunting a manticore out in the wilderness, and Dean had said that ‘if he got lost he should follow the river because water always led to people eventually’. At the time Cas had replied that he couldn’t get lost. Dean had found it funny. It seemed that he could get lost now though, so he followed the river, and hoped people wouldn’t mean something too old and terrible for him to handle.  

 

\--

 

Dean had his knife in his hand. the creatures that attacked him were shaped like apes with a wolf’s wicked teeth and claws. Leathery wings sprouted from their backs, not large enough to fly with but enough to make them twice as fast as they should have been.

It was a scene straight out of the Wizard of Oz.

Dean slipped into combat mode, slashing at anything that came too close, taking every advantage he could grab and every opening that was presented.  It was brutal and bloody. He was out to prove himself too much of a threat to bother tangling with, so when one of them dived at him out of the trees, he didn’t just take it’s wings off, he cut open it’s navel spilling entrails over the black soil.

After that the others were cowed enough that he could retreat. Only then did he let his mind start processing things.

He was alone in a forest filled with monsters. He had no supplies and Cas had vanished. Not exactly an ideal situation. Still, he was Dean fucking Winchester. Heaven and Hell had both tried to break him and he’d come out on top.

Dean took his bearings, and headed for high ground. When he found a spot that was defensible enough for a short rest he prayed. Cas didn’t answer, but Dean chose to believe he heard and knew Dean was alive and searching for him.

He slept for a few hours, then moved on.

 

\--

 

Castiel at first fought against the bars of his cage. He tried to fly away but his wings would not move. He tried to bend the bars or break them, but with the shape of his prison he could not get enough leverage.  He thought of picking the lock but there was none, there was not even a door. The bars of his gilded cage were not far enough apart to fit through, even if he were nothing but skin and bones. Nor would the cage fall to the ground, no matter how much he made it twist or swey.

A thought occurred to him that perhaps the songs were the key and he tried to cry out, sing back to the chorus. If he leaned up against the bars, craned his neck he could see other cages like his own. Some of them were covered in rust. Others were covered in curtains of moss or spider webs.  He could not see anything alive, and nothing stirred inside them. But if the song was not coming from them then where?

He saw no guards of any kind. No watchful birds or indeed any other type of animal. There are perhaps insects. He was comforted every so often by the buzzing of a bee. Of all his fathers creatures the bees were some of his favorites. There were no statues or other figures that might come to life if one tried to escape. Nothing but a ring of trees at the base of the hill.

The mournful song came again and Castiel answered in kind.

The singer sounded so lonely, and somehow so familiar. Castiel wanted to draw them closer, to reach out and comfort them. To nestle close and shelter them with his wings. There was love in the songs he heard. Love and loss, pain and determination. He sung back hope and strength and love.

 

\--

  
  


Castiel woke in darkness that was both familiar and foreign. At first he did not understand. Where was his own light, and why did it hurt so much to think? There were wild things in the dark. They changed shape when he closed his eyes or looked away, but that didn’t stop him from knowing them. He called to them one by one, and he knew all their names.

Some of them fought him, but he coaxed them forward with praise and promises. Some of them lay at his feet asking for tidbits, and he gave them what he could. Some challenged him. At those times he showed his teeth and bared his claws. They would learn who was stronger, Who had the right to lead the pack, learn, or die. They could not truly hurt him, though they certainly tried. He knew their names. Eventually they all came when he called, trailing behind him in a parade of terrors.

Except one. Who cut at the darkness with fire and steel. That one he looked on often. The ones who follow him threatened it for not bending and showing it’s throat to their master. That one he did not call by name. He knew the name, but when he tried to remember it his mind buzzed and his chest twisted until he felt like he was drowning. That was when he looked away and called his shadows close. They did not make him feel like that. They were simple in their way and easy to understand.

Except two. For there was another whose name he could not remember. It took him longer to find that one. It did not scream into the dark like the first one. This one hid in twilight, sneaking around the edges. When he sent his shadows, it ran, and they gave mary chase. But it was not simple and so it tricked his shadows, sending them in circles until they came back to him whining their losses. He comforted them then. For a time the second would walk unseen, until fate or chance of a mistake led him across the trail again.

His shadows knew nothing of time, and so what is time to him. There are his shadows to keep him company and the one and the other to occupy his time. There was more once but that was before he knew the names and there was only so much he can remember.

He remembered that his mind should be broken, but he could not remember what that means. He remembered that this is not the only place but he could not remember what the other places were like or how to get there. His shadows called him Master and Leader and Alpha and there was another name once. The other name did not matter because no one used it.

 

\--

 

Cas didn’t know how long he’d been running. He did not feel hungry but ate when he could find food, just in case it was some kind of illusion. He drank from the river when it didn’t look too clogged or polluted. He hid when he could, fought when he couldn’t and searched for any sign of Dean. The forest might be endless or it might just be that he was not skilled enough to find the edge. If there was an edge he was sure Dean had found it by now. He refused to believe Dean was gone.

Dean could not hear prayers like he could, ( or maybe used to be able to since he hasn’t heard a single one since he woke up on that river bank ) but Cas still had faith and who else was there to pray to.

He prayed to Dean, to say that he was coming. That there was a pair of Jin today but he managed to escape them. That he tried to climb a tree but he couldn’t get high enough to see anything. He told Dean that he thinks there is something following him.

He has seen no sign of the leviathan. A part of him hopes they are not here. They only managed to kill Dick, the rest should still be on earth. Another part, a part that sounds a lot like Dean says that would be too easy.

Maybe the something following him is Dean, but he doesn’t want to take the chance.

 

\--

 

Dean was asleep on his feet. The monster attacks came at random and he hadn’t found a defensible place to lay low in what felt like weeks. Time was strange here. It had crossed his mind more than once that it could be running fast like in Hell, or maybe in circles like in Heaven.

He tried not to think about Sam. For all he knew, Sam could think he was dead. Until he got some solid evidence otherwise he can’t count on him for a magical escape. Practicality over wishful thinking. And even if Sam did show up with a magic glowing door out of here there was still the matter of Cas.

Damn that angel. Dean was finally getting back to the point where he could trust him. He wasn’t going to abandon him now. He forced away the thought that Cas might be dead, or even worse, that Cas was purposefully avoiding him.

He kept praying. Cas would hear him, he had to. And when he went stumbling through the trees, lost somewhere between exhaustion and the push of adrenalin, he almost thought he got a reply.

No, reply was too concrete a word for what this was. It was a lure, a siren song that tugged at his soul. An answering prayer in the sound of the wind in the leaves and the thrum of the river. A magnet that he alone could feel.

When he was conscious enough he ignored the call, because nothing in purgatory should feel like that, like home. Most of the time he knew he couldn’t stop himself. Most of the time he didn't want to.

 

\--

 

For Castiel, there were only two times anymore. There were the times when he waits, trapped in his gilded cage; alone but for his thoughts and those few and far between. Then there are the times of song. The singer was growing louder and Castiel hazarded that it was because they were growing closer or stronger. He hoped that was the case at least.

The singer could be Lucifer himself for all that Castiel knew. There was certainly a sorrowful quality to his songs even with all the encouragement Castiel sent him. Castiel does not care. He has nothing else to live for, no other way to act.

He loves the singer. That is his simple truth. He will send the singer his songs until he has no more to give or the songs all end.

 

\--

 

The Leader sends out his shadows and when they returned without news he snarled at them and showed them his teeth. They cowered and pleaded for their lives on their bellies. He was not pleased. He had lost one of the others.

The second one, the one who hides, is by the river. Always by the river. That one was slowing down, less careful and his shadows have learned the tricks he plays. That one may run but he can no longer hide.

It was the other that made the leader snarl and snap at any too slow to get out of his way. The one with the heart of fire has found a bright place where the leader could not see. The Leader did not even know there was a bright place until the fireheart found it.

The Leader tried to send his shadows but they were more fearful of it then even of him.  They snarled at the edges and harassed it like a pack of wolves would a wounded bear but no difference is made. This was not something his shadows can fight.

The leaders rage turned him to the only other target in his sights.

The one who hid will hide no longer, the ones who run would be set to the chase and hunters will find their prey. The Leader will learn the name of the one, and call him to kneel at his feet, or else die.

The horn was sounded, and the hounds loosed. The hunt was on.

 

\--

 

Dean had a fuzzy memory of climbing the hill, but it wasn’t until he opened his eyes and came fully awake that he truly took in his surroundings.

The hill was a perfectly round dome. The grass on it was soft and green in a way that he hadn’t seen since he entered this horrible place. The single tree at the top of the hill was enormous. It’s branches spread like a second sky, spring green instead of blue or purgatory grey.

Dean’s had only ever seen one thing like it: The oak that sprouted where Anna’s grace fell. Except this was apparently an apple tree, because dotted among the higher branches were yellow gold fruit.

It had been an age since Dean was hungry, and he still wasn’t hungry now, but something make him climb the tree. The lower branches were thick and sturdy. At over a foot wide they were easy enough to walk on. He went higher, until he found a spot in the center of the tree where he could perch like he was a kid again.

Whatever has been calling him seemed to have stopped but the comfort of the feeling remained. He felt the most relaxed he’d been since he entered purgatory, hell since before Cas tried to fill his dad’s shoes. He closed his eyes and let his head settle back against the trunk of the tree.

“I wish you were here Cas.” He prayed quietly.

The feeling that came back to him was just as content and happy as he was in that moment. It was something like knowing someone so well you’d know their response without having to ask the question, and something like feeling when there’s someone standing behind you. Dean knew the words that went along with the emotions.

‘I’m here. I love you. I’m glad you came.’

Dean had to take a shaky breath so his vision wouldn’t get clouded by tears. There was nothing worth crying about. Cas wasn’t really here. Still, maybe he’d pick one of the apples and give it to Cas when he found him.

Dean decided he liked that idea, and looked casually around to see if any were in reach. He spotted one on the next branch and levered himself up to reach for it, but when his fingers touched the stem it crumpled like old paper. The apple had been completely hollowed out by insects and time. He spotted another and scooted along a branch to grab it. This one was wet to the touch, clearly rotted through.

Dean looked around again, this time paying more attention to the fruit on this strange tree. Some had moss creeping over them or insects clearly burrowing through the flesh. Dean sat back wondering how he hadn’t noticed before. Then a soft gold caught his eye near the top of the tree. Boosting himself onto a higher branch he tried to get a better look. Apparently he’d found the one apple on the whole tree that hadn’t gone bad.

Getting to it wasn’t the easiest of tricks. Dean stuck as close to the trunk as he could as the branches grew narrower. He straddled the branch that would get him the closest and scooted his way to where he could reach it. His first grab brushed the firm surface and sent the apple swinging. With his second attempt he caught it and pulled it free.

It was perfect; firm with a smooth skin and not a single blemish. Dean smiled and scooted backwards until he was next to the trunk again. Only then did he realize he was going to need two hands to climb down. He looked at the apple. It was the size of his fist, too big to just stick in a pocket. He looked down at the ground. There was nothing for it. He stuck the apple in his mouth, trying not to break the skin with his teeth and started working his way back to the ground.

He was nearly down, less than ten feet off the ground, when some bark gave way under his feet and he fell. He hit the ground and managed to disperse most of the force with a roll but nothing could have stopped his gaw from clamping down on the apple, taking a sizable bite.

 

\--

 

It was a strange thing.

Castiel had not realized he was not whole until this moment. Indeed he had not even realized his form was not the one he had grown accustomed to in recent years. His perceptions had been fragmented as much as his physical self. Not a gilded cage then but an apple, how perfect a trap. Not a singer either but Dean. Dean and his prayers.

Was it chance or fate that had made Dean’s foot slip?

Not that it mattered now that this part of his grace was nestled up beside Dean’s soul. They were together again.

Dean wheezed on the grass, trying to catch his breath. He had by default agreed to the possession by taking the bite of apple, but Castiel was weak enough that Dean could eject him easily if he chose. Castiel disliked the deception, and the necessity of the situation. He would not add the deception of hiding his presence.

With the lightest touch Castiel pulled Dean’s conscious mind into sleep, forming a dream in which they could speak.

 

\--

 

Cas wasn’t just being attacked he was being swarmed.

It had started with a pair of werewolves. Cas had dodged and tricked them into attacking each other, then run. Only as soon as he’d gotten away a ghoul had leapt at him. Throwing it off he’d tried to keep running, but first a rawhead, then a wendigo, blocked his path.

He was slowly boxed in, harried on all sides. This wasn’t right. He’d never been attacked by so many at once, and never by more than one type of creature at a time. He sent a last prayer to Dean as he was overwhelmed, dragged to the ground. Claws and fangs ripped at him, but somehow never caused a fatal wound. They were bleeding him.

He was unceremoniously dragged to the leader of the hunt by a pair of wraiths. The figure sat atop a warhorse sized kelpie. The beast’s hide looked rotted and covered in algae but it’s hooves were the size of river stones and just as strong. There was no saddle or bridle just the matted strands of it’s mane for rains.

Cas let his vision drift higher over the black veined limbs to the face of his captor. A wicked, insane smile spread across it’s face. Cas gave in to the urge to pass out.

 

\--

 

Dean was sitting in the impala, parked on an outlook somewhere on the side of the road. On one side a forest stretched up the side of a mountain. On the other side the ground sloped away. A gap in the trees framed a river below.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel said from the back seat.

It was so familiar and so perfect that Dean didn’t want to believe it. “This isn’t real.”

Castiel nodded his concession of that fact. “This is a dream, but I am here.”

“How?” He still didn’t want to believe it. It was too much. If this was a trick it was a cruel one.

“This part of me was contained in the apple. I was able to enter your mind when you--”

“Took a bite, yeah okay I’ll buy that, but how are you. I mean, an apple? How the hell did that happen?” Dean had twisted in his seat, one arm propped along the back of the bench seat to look at Cas straight on.

Castiel put on his ‘I’m concentrating’ face. “I am unsure. I have a theory, but I have no proof. May I borrow your senses for a time?”

“You want to do what now?”

“I can enhance your senses and hopefully confirm my theory. May I?”

Dean looked him over. “Ah, yeah okay, just careful with the merchandise, There’s only one of me.”

Castiel nodded.

Dean slumped back in the impala as a second reality was laid over his vision. In purgatory, his body sat up, pushed itself to it’s feet then sent out some kind of energy wave. Castiel in Dean’s body waited as pulses like sonar blips came back to him. Eventually Castiel seemed satisfied. He made Dean sit down again, then that part of him reappeared this time in the impala’s passenger seat.

“Okay, what’s the verdict?”

“This piece is not all of me. There are at least two other fragments, possibly more out of range.”

Dean stared at Cas for a long minute. “Okay, so which part of you am I talking to now?”

Now that Castiel knew what had happened it was easy to identify this fragment of himself. “The instinct and Grace of an angel.”

Dean tried to wrap his head around that. “So, you’re like the version of you from when we first met? The guy who raised me from perdition and hadn’t grown a personality yet? No offense.”

“A closer analogy would be that I am what makes Castiel more than human.”

Dean blinked in the universal sign for Huh?

“How is a demon created?” Dean flinched, and Castiel went on before he could answer. “Take a human, subtract love and hope, add pain and rage. A demon is less than human. In the same way, an angel is more than human. I am that piece, grace and faith and divine glory. I suspect that the mechanics of purgatory were trying to separate the angel from the vessel. Since Jimmy Novak is dead I was divided into the major aspects of myself.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, I can roll with that. So we just find the other parts of you and smush you back together.”

“That would be for the best, yes. But before we begin I must ask for your assistance.”

Dean looked back to the passenger seat. “Sure, anything.”

Castiel paused, his face scrunching up again. “Understand, I am only instinct. I can not make or carry out a plan. I only called to you because you called to me. I could not even be having this conversation if your mind wasn’t willing to act as a guide. If we are to find the other parts of myself, you must be the guiding force.”

“Your power but I’m at the wheel? I can handle that, unless… It’s not going to burn me up or anything is it?”

“No I will shield your conscious mind. It will be instinctual.”

Dean smiled that wild devil may care grin. “Let’s do this.”

  
  


On the hill beneath the apple tree, the angel Dean Winchester opened his eyes.

 

\--

 

The pack leader roared his victory, and his legions of shadows answered in a cacophony of howls and screeches.  He had caught the one who ran, and all would see his victory.

The leader called for rope and bound his prey so it would drag behind his steed. He called for celebration and more cries answered his call. He called for them to run and they did. He called for them to dance and they did. And all the while his prey dragged behind him for all to see.

The fireheart stepped out of the sky into his circle, the wicked light burning behind it’s eyes. A challenge to his power now on the eve of his victory. His shadows snapped and hissed sensing his rage, but would not attack. The fireheart drew steel and pointed at his fairly caught prey.

“Let Him Go.” it said in flame and lightning.

The pack leader roared defiance, leaping from his steed. The challenge was accepted.

 

\--

 

The part of himself that was still just Dean marveled at the new sensations. He was Dean Winchester, but he was also The Angel of Thursday, Castiel. It was like he could suddenly see more than just seven colors, hear more than just the standard range of sounds. His balance had shifted automatically to account for the spread of unseen wings.

Sometimes when he was totally on his game he could tell where the monster was going to be, or when Sam was going to step around a corner. He’d always put it down to training and the fact that he and Sam had done the job so damn often. Now that feeling was there and it was more than just instinct it was fact. He could feel the path of every one of the 29 bees that were currently within his reach. Instinctively he knew that he could look farther, see every creature within five or ten miles if he needed to.

He could feel how a part of himself wasn’t whole. Bits of his grace were rubbing against the part of him that were still Dean. For the moment it was just a bit uncomfortable, like sandpaper, but the angel side of him knew that if left unchecked it would cut into him like a saw. This was not a situation that could be maintained but for the moment it did have advantages,

He knew he was faster, stronger, and where instinct failed he had the experience of a hunter who had been in more life or death situations than anyone had a right to survive. Knowledge gained in three realms laid out before him; But this wasn’t Earth or Heaven and as much as it might aspire, Hell had never managed to create anything like this. Dean swept aside the secrets of the universe that were tugging at his attention and focused on the here and now.

There was something on the very edge of his hearing. Dean considered the knife in his boot then dismissed it in favor of the angel blade that fell effortlessly into his hand. But no, this wasn’t some kind of warning of an attack, it was a call for help.

It was a prayer. For a moment Dean let himself listen to the simple elegant beauty of it, then he caught himself and plucked out the message it contained.

 

Dean safe...get away... sorry...see him again… Dean… so sorry...one last time…

 

It was full of pain and regret and all wrapped up in the kind of hope that only came from thinking of someone else.

And it was Cas.

It was Cas and it was another piece of himself. Cas was praying to him, to Dean. If this was what Cas had felt like when Dean prayed, no wonder he always answered. The urge to answer was like his own beating heart. His wings spread (no fear of flying now, just joy) and launched himself through space.

When he landed in the clearing he was momentarily shocked. It wasn’t just one piece of himself, but two. The part of himself that was wild and power hungry and mad, had tied the part of him that had learned to be human, to use free will, up by his wrists and dragged him behind a horse while monsters nipped at him. The human Cas was barely conscious, blearily looking up at Dean as if he was the savior himself.

Dean looked at the monster Cas. He looked human except for the black veins under his skin and the blood running in tears from his eyes. His hair had grown ragged and tangled, and his hands now ended in black claws instead of the standard fingernails. There were leaves tangled in his dark hair. The clothes he had been wearing before were torn dirtied rags intermixed with roughly sewn hunting leathers patterned with fur and scales from creatures Dean couldn’t name

God, there were too many versions of Cas right now, if Dean didn't have one in his head he wouldn’t have been able to keep them all straight.

Dean forced himself to focus. His sword was in his hand and he declared his intent. A part of him whispered that both of the other selves were part of him. He needed both, not just one. Dean pushed it down. Human Cas first, then he’d come up with a plan for the other one.

The monster leapt at him.

Dean sidestepped, slashing with his blade. He caught the monster on the upper arm and it snarled, retreating a step. The wound bubbled, oozing black, then closed over without a trace.

“Healing factor, got it.” Dean spun his blade around and crouched a bit bracing for the next strike. Flickering unseen, his wings spread out above him.

The monster didn’t disappoint.

With a primal cry of joyous rage the monster called out to the night. He summoned his shadows, calling all to witness. Then in a show of power he stepped forward and stretched his claws out in the red firelight. The angel in Dean was disgusted but the hunter understood. This kind of challenge was almost ritual. They would fight to the death, winner take all and nothing would interfere.

Cas, the human Cas, realized what was happening and started to struggle weakly. “No please Dean--”

Then the monster lept and Dean had no room for spare thoughts. He stepped back away from the strike, twisting, and ended up about four feet past where he thought he’d be. His wings had caught the air like a sail. He’d need to watch that.

The second strike came at him from behind and below while he was distracted. Dean, still settling his balance, couldn’t completely avoid the talons. He stepped into the strike instead; causing the monster’s blade like nails to miss the meat of his side, and catch his thigh. Dean pinned the monster’s arm twisting it into a lock, only for Cas to throw himself at Dean. The monster used his own arm as a fulcrum, rolling over his shoulder and pulling Dean down with him.

Dean lost his sword, the blade rolling away across the ground. He caught a grab for his throat bringing his knee up in a desperate jab. The monster rolled with it, and they went tumbling across the ground. Cheers and howls went up from the onlookers along with one desperate prayer.

Please, no, Dean!

The angel had no experience with this kind of dirty fighting but the hunter had grown up breaking every rule in the book. When the monster dug in his heels, Dean went for a choke hold. The monster ripped at his arm tearing in deep enough that Dean’s own healing couldn’t quite keep up. Dean cried out.

Then the monster slammed his head back connecting with Dean’s cheekbone. Dean’s grip slipped and suddenly there was an elbow in his guts. Dean tried not to double over, his wings flexing instinctively, throwing him into the air.

The monster Cas stumbled at the sudden lack of an opponent. He rolled back to his feet, howling at the sky. Dean rose a few feet higher and watched as the creatures few wounds were closed over by black blood. His own wounds were healing as well but not nearly as fast and there were more of them.

The creature wasn’t going to just let him catch his breath though. It crouched, then leapt into the air after him. The fact that it didn’t have wings to fly with either didn’t occur to it, or it just didn’t care.

Dean let the angel instinct take control, slashing with his wings. He used a burst of wind to throw the monster higher. It flailed slashing at the air frantically and managed to catch Dean’s injured leg. Dean kicked out and sent them into a spiral, falling, breaking apart bear feet above the ground. They both landed hard.

Dean bit back a cry as he rolled back to his feet. No time to catch his breath. The creature was back on his feet as well, any damage sustained fading fast. Not good. Dean really didn’t like the idea of an endurance fight. Even if he won (and he wasn’t confident that he could) he’d be too weak to fight off the throngs that were watching. If this evil Cas was a monster he knew how to fight it might be different but like always, Cas had broken the mold becoming something never seen before. There was no secret weakness that he could exploit. The only choice he had was to burn through this monster with his borrowed grace now before he was too weak, or grab the human Cas and make a run for it.

 

Before he could decide the creature was on him again, tearing at any patch of skin it could reach. Dean spun on his heels playing bullfighter to the monster-Cas’s angry wolf. He scrambled for a weapon, any weapon. Even as that voice in his head, the voice of his grace insisted that this was wrong. He couldn’t kill this other self; any injury was an injury to himself.

Dean forced the grace down. Sacrificing strength for control. He needed to be a hunter now, if the angel was too soft hearted to do the job. Forced into silence, the grace fell to his command.

He needed a weapon, and his grace provided one a second before the monster again leapt at his throat. Dean fell back aiming the shotgun at the things guts and emptying the double barrel into the blood covered, black laced skin. The monster seized in pain locking it’s claws into Dean’s shoulder, and chest as it’s teeth ripped into his throat. Pressed against him, Dean realized that the creature was getting off on this; rutting against him even as it attempted to tear out his throat, tasting his blood in it’s mouth, and wasn’t that just screwed up. After everything this was it? This was his end? And the worst of it was he honestly couldn't say he was disgusted. Dean honestly didn’t know how he fealt. There was just too much and keeping the monster Cas from getting a real grip on his throat was all he could manage.

The cry came out of nowhere and weak as it was it still shattered the silence that had settled over the battleground.

Cas, the human Cas, had picked up Dean’s angel blade, and pushed forward on broken limbs to shove the blade into his counterparts shoulder. Cas hadn't managed to do any damage that would last but the shock and pain on top of the shotgun blasts in it’s guts sent the monster rolling off Dean.

Cas (the idiot, beautiful, perfect, crazy idiot ) pulled Dean to his feet and turned towards the kelpie that still waited at the edge of the crowd of creatures. None of them knew what to do. Their master had been bested but not by the challenger. What was the outcome of the challenge? Was Cas the monster actually beaten or….

The monsters leaned forward. Each eager and yet unsure. Their master had fallen but was not yet dead and the one they had thought was dead, prey beading out and already finished, had stepped into the ring helping the challenger. It broke the code. It broke the rules, and yet if the monster Cas fell then the rules he had erected were done as well. Things would fall to every monster and it's own strength as in the old days. They watched the two strangers pull themselves to their feet bloody but not beaten. And there was another fact that scared them. If the challengers had defeated the master, the Alpha, then what did that mean for the lesser creatures. Would the two turn on each other or expect the shadows to follow them now? Could they follow two masters? Would some new challenger step forward? Each waited, watching each other to see what would happen next.

The human Cas pulled dean towards the kelpie tugging at it's mane and trying to get the creature to obey. In some part of Dean’s mind he knew that he could force the creature to obey if he let that part of his grace resurface, but he was wound too tight. He didn't know how to release his grip, on the shotgun or the grace. The creature was being stubborn but it wasn't smart enough to truly fight them. Dean pushed Cas onto it's back wrapping his human hands in the wet mossy strands of it’s mane.

All eyes were drawn to the creature as the Alpha stood. The angel blade still protruded from his shoulder. It was a grotesque sight. Dean bared his teeth, and the monster just grinned, his teeth were red stained and Dean had a flash that that was his blood, and the creature wanted another taste. He swung the kelpie around scrambling on behind Cas as the creature let out a howl that managed to sound joyous even as it called the monsters to run, to chase and to tear them apart. Dean kicked at the kelpie forcing it into a leaping run. The howls spurred it faster as one bat-like thing got too close and tried to rake at Dean, catching their mount's flank instead. Then Cas was after them as well, leading the pack. He looked almost happy in his crazed battle lust.

As Dean looked over his shoulder he saw the Alpha rip the angel blade out of his own shoulder and lift it to his lips. Dean wrapped his arms further around the human half that he’d come for. Cas was too weak to properly ride for long. The kelpie’s stride was long and off-kilter as if any moment it might try to throw them off. Combined with the it’s scaled and slimy hide it might just succeed. Dean clung to it’s neck, anchoring himself in the tangles of it’s mane. Cas pressed against his chest, whimpering, his eyes closed.

He tried to reach for his grace again and screaming filled his mind. It was wrong all wrong, but maybe if he could just hold on a little longer. If he could manage to fly, maybe get him and Cas away. He could deal with the rest of it when they were safe.

Yes that he could do, or at least that was what he had to do. His grace was screaming. Any other option, any other action, ended with some part of him dead. No, Wrong, Run.

A silver horn call lanced through the air and the Grace inside Dean broke free of his tenuous hold. He spread his wings searching for the source; the one who was calling him to answer to serve.

Then the last person he ever thought he'd see again stepped out of the trees in front of them another angel blade in his left hand and a gun that looked suspiciously like Dean’s own conjured weapon in his right.

It was Sam. Sam was here and shooting rock salt into the hordes of monsters on their tail. Why? How? He shouldn't be here. Sam couldn't possibly have ended up here too could he? Trapped all this time along with them and Dean had never even considered it? But no. Sam was full of life, bursting with it in fact and there was something else. An energy was wrapped around Sam, down to his soul.

The kelpie finally caught what Dean had already heard, screaming in a bestial screech and leaping into a wild bucking spiral less than thirty feet before they would have run Sam down. Dean spread his wings and wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist. Lifting them both off the beast before it could throw them into a tree. He angled them towards where Sam was making a stand.

Cas cried out pointing at a spot beyond Sam and only then did Dean see it. There was a doorway, cut into the air. A gateway of silver bars and that was where the horn call was coming from. Dean banked slightly, enough to drop a bit of speed and height. Sam saw him coming in and his face fell into an expression of pure shock.

Come to think of it Dean hadn't considered what he looked like from the outside. Dean shuffled Cas, pressing him flush to his left side. Cas was still strong enough to wrap his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean held his other hand out to Sam who reached up almost as if in a dream and grabbed hold.

Sam cried out as Dean pulled him into the air. It was more surprise than pain, but dangling by one arm couldn't have been pleasant when the forest was determined to do everything it could to tear them out of the sky. Things with leathery wings had joined the chase, Harrying them like sparrows would a hawk. Even the trees were twisting, reaching out to grab and snare.

Sam was screaming something and every few seconds he’d fire off another shot at the things behind them, but Dean had everything he needed now. He had his family with him; nothing else mattered. If the angel in him was urging him to go through the gates, and safety, and all that jazz that was fine with him. He couldn't hear Sam over the wind and the gunfire anyway.

He pulled back just enough that he could land at a run as he hit the ground feet from the gateway. They stumbled through together and suddenly he was sprawled out on dry riverbed on a summer evening. The stars were turning overhead again.

 

Dean could feel every grain of sand and stone under his hands. He could sense every bird, insect, person within a few miles and most of all he could feel the two humans in his arms. Sam and Cas. They were alive. The three of them were alive and back in life, on Earth, where they belonged. Everything around him sung with a thousand songs that the human part of him couldn’t begin to comprehend. The songs of life, and he sung out in joy that he could hear them at all. Purgatory had been so quiet in retrospect but he hadn’t had any reference for comparison.

Dean heard the echo of magic, steel and the final resounding boom of a lock being sealed firmly in place. He looked up and there was the source of the trumpet the echoes of which he could still hear. The general who had called him, made him flock to his banner and the banner of heaven where he belonged.

The Archangel Gabriel.

He was beautiful. He was sereine. He was perfection in a shower of golden light and music, echoing off the universe. Six celestial wings cradled and covered Deans own taking any choice from him. Telling him everything would be alright as long as he obeyed. It was what he needed, wanted and Dean gladly offered up his two companions to the archangel when he bent to lay a hand on their foreheads. He noted distantly that Cas was down for the count, the last desperate flight in his already injured state. Sam was awake though. He had superficial cuts up and down his arms and he was panting, his limbs shaking from exertion, but he’d be fine. Sam was tough.

Gabriel gestured for Dean to stand then, and he did, keeping his head bowed as was proper. The Archangel reached up, kissed his forehead and in a move too fast for even an angel to anticipate, Gabriel tore him apart.

Dean cried out as he fell to the ground, blackness pulling him under.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So... yeah, if you're wondering what's happening there at the end, I promise it will be explained in Pictures in Fogged Glass. That story is much longer and while it is mostly written at this point it also needs a lot of editing. Look for it at the beginning of February since I'm writing it for the Sam/Gabriel big bang.


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